


Tell-Tale

by yormgen



Category: Persona 5
Genre: F/M, Making Out, Underage Smoking, akira may be tough but he's still pretty whipped
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-24
Updated: 2018-02-24
Packaged: 2019-03-23 03:51:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 674
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13779069
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yormgen/pseuds/yormgen
Summary: “You’re sodramatic,” she giggles between soft, peppered kisses, now that Akira’s pliant in her hands again. “If you hate that I make you blush, why do you always beg me to kiss you?”“I’ve neverbegged,” he gets out from deep in his throat, before Haru catches his bottom lip between her teeth. He hears his growl turn into something mortifyingly close to a whimper.





	Tell-Tale

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Black & Red](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13757526) by [Alexilulu](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alexilulu/pseuds/Alexilulu). 



> lexi cursed me, please read her fic about haru wifing up a goth king

It had been raining all morning, and it wasn’t as though anyone ever came to the roof anyway, but the weather made for a nice added security.

They sit close on a few dry desks they’d pushed together under the awning. Haru presses her back against the wall while Akira lets her pull him over her, arms locked around his neck.

They had been playing 20-questions in their own way, the kiss-and-tells they usually defaulted to when they were alone. Haru doesn’t remember what her last question was, just Akira’s dry laugh before he tossed his cigarette butt into a nearby puddle (she’d scold him for that, later) and said, “That a loaded topic, princess. I’ll need more than a little peck on the cheek for it.”

Just like she always did for him, she obliged. She’d been obliging for several minutes, keeping him close while she coaxed his secrets out from behind zipped lips, a sharp tongue and the taste of tobacco. She moves a hand to his jaw, to his cheek, fingers pushing his hair back from his face—

And he goes rigid, his own hand shooting up to grasp hers in place. He pulls his head back just enough to give her a cold glare. It does nothing to melt the warmth of Haru’s own expression, and she gently reconnects the kiss, stroking his temple with her still freed thumb.

“You always let me lead when we kiss,” Haru murmurs against his lips. “As if you're trying to make sure I know you aren’t  _that_  interested.”

Akira's hand falters against Haru’s, loses its grip, and she doesn’t waste a beat before she has his curls in a fistful. She can feel his quickly reddening ear press against her wrist, feels his breath fall shakily against her mouth as her own grip tightens, but he doesn’t stop her again.

“You’re so  _dramatic_ ,” she giggles between soft, peppered kisses, now that Akira’s pliant in her hands again. “If you hate that I make you blush, why do you always beg me to kiss you?”

“I’ve never  _begged_ ,” he gets out from deep in his throat, before Haru catches his bottom lip between her teeth. He hears his growl turn into something mortifyingly close to a whimper. 

The flow of things was restored just like that, Haru coaxing and persuading her way past Akira’s hard exterior as if he were nothing but a slightly stubborn alley cat.

She nurses his bottom lip with her teeth and her tongue until he breaks down and finally lets her through. He notices quickly that beyond the flavor of the cigarette they’d shared, Haru still tasted like strawberries. He catches himself wondering if she’d had a pastry for lunch or if it was her lip gloss, and hates himself for getting caught up by it, but then she makes a soft sound into his mouth, a quiet little moan, and he forgets how to think at all.

Haru releases the grip on his hair and takes to running her fingers through it, scratching his scalp and loosening any tangles, smiling whenever she feels a shiver Akira couldn’t quite suppress. He’s falling to her so much quicker, so much harder than he’d ever planned on, and he really can’t be thinking straight anymore, because the hand that hovered over hers moves to rest gently, sweetly against her wrist—

And the bell marking the end of lunch break blares from over their heads. Haru breaks the kiss with a click of her tongue before absently pushing Akira away to collect her things.

“I need to get back to class,” she says, pulling her school bag over her shoulder. Haru pulls the door open and glances back to where Akira still sits on the desks. “You’ll just have to answer my question after school, okay?”

Akira watches her disappear down the stairs, still blinking out of his daze. He leans back against the wall, fishes his lighter out of his pocket, and tries to remember what Haru had even asked him.


End file.
